The Capture
by summerssevenseas
Summary: The Living Shadow, an infamous murderer from an unknown birth place, finally met his match. An intelligent, yet egotistic young detective has given himself the mission to catch the criminal and send him to the gallows, with only the little information he has, a dagger, and his seeking eyes. How far will our protagonist be able to survive with such an opponent? Character Deaths, AU
1. Prologue

**I believe I've said this before, but I'm at my best when writing serious stories. Well, here is a little bit of proof.**

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**The Capture**

_Prologue_

The slick razor slid over the delicate skin, drops of crimson oozing out of the freshly cut wound. The man smirked at the liquid, his violet eyes blazing with an emotion that was nearly impossible to identify. The wounded could not breathe as she looked deep into the daring orbs, to afraid to make the littlest sound. The man was everywhere, anytime, place, or weather. He mushed people's brains with his incredibly fascinating, yet dangerous mind games, and was infamous for his illusions and trickery. All of Germany, England, France, Spain, and Prussia knew him, and no one knew where he came from. They just know that his first strike was at Place de Greve, Paris. There, he supposedly captured a noble in broad daylight, slit his throat, and left without a trace. The wounded knew this, and she was not taking her chances.

"What lovely skin, my dear." Said man exclaimed, caressing the other uninjured cheek. His voice was laced with a thick, dominant accent, obviously German. His white teeth shown brightly in the moonlight as he smiled wickedly, and the madam was not sure whether or not she should be attracted by his beautiful features or disgusted by his very presence. "It's a shame really, you make me want to regret doing this."

Without another word from either party, a knife struck the poor woman directly through the forehead. Her body fell limp, and her breathing was permanently paused. She was dead.

The man who killed the young duchess was none other than The Living Shadow. The reason for this was for the very reason know one knew what he looked like, and that his only distinctive feature was his eyes, equally sharp to the blade he once carried. His violet, unreadable eyes. His body remained invisible, only coming off as a black blob that flew across the very floor as he passed to his next murder. No one knew his name, and no one heard him utter a word and live to tell. Not even a little sound. No one, whatsoever, could catch the beast, either, as they all ended up dead when trying.

He brought fear into even the King, who has had put his army in a large, unbroken wall around his castle to prevent the devil passing onto grounds. All feared him, and he feared no one.

He left the dark bedroom, leaving the corpse on the desk as he rushed out the window, his cape flying in the wind, then disappearing from vision.

Yes, he was the very person who could surpass god, for he has yet to receive his punishment. And everyone, though it was unspoken, believed it.


	2. Chapter I: Promise

**Hello! Yeah, I'm not sure what I should say other than the fact that you guys thought Roddy was just plain crazy. Lol, not every criminal has a good reason, but they have a reason nonetheless.**

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**The Capture**

_Chapter I: Promise_

A man, around five feet and ten inches, sat sloppily onto an arm chair, his feet kicked over the table casually as he read through his latest files. He wore suspenders, his dress shirt's cuffs were unbuttoned, and his shoes were kicked off in some random corner of the room. His black tie hung loosely over his collarbone, and his ruby eyes seemed uninterested with the shit he was reading. Head resting in his hand in boredom, he kicked his foot to an unsteady, imaginary beat, trying to muster his utmost attention to the unawesome requests so many civilians had asked of him. He didn't understand why people would need him for such silly, unreasonable requests. He was a top detective, not some cheap teenager living on the streets, ready to make a quick buck. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt, a German renowned man with, although not the most hygienic or cleanest, a bright mind able to crack the most impossible of cases. If you didn't find him impressive, or didn't treat him like you should, then suck it loser. He's done with you.

Just as he was at the brink of giving up, something caught his pupils. A request by a man named Vash Zwingly, around the age of 17, asking for the capture of the Living Shadow. Sure, Gilbert has gotten many requests on capturing this man, but none of them had a reason why he must do so. But Vash had a whole paragraph printed onto the fine paper, and Gilbert could not resist the curiosity that welled into his steady rhythm. He read the paragraph out loud, his German tongue being obviously due to it's dominant pronunciation.

"Dear Detective Beilshmidt,

"I had, at first, not really payed attention the so called Living Shadow, the man who can disappear at will, but I have now come to an understanding that he must be stopped. On the night of December 29th, a man with unspeakably vivid eyes encountered me in an alley way. I don't know how, but I escaped within an inch of my life. It happened in a blur, he jumped at me and lashed a silver dagger around like a wild beast. I had a glance at his face, though, I cannot describe him. He looked young, around 20 or maybe even 19 years old. He had vivid violet eyes, and for a second, I was transfixed by how beautiful someone could be. It got me wondering if he might have been a woman dressed in mens clothing, but I threw that thought away as soon as he smiled. His teeth were a clean ivory, and under the moonlight... it was horrifying yet entrancing, and I partially knew why he was able to kill so easily.

"Once I escaped, heavens knows how, I went back home and fell asleep, assured of my little 15 year old sister was asleep in her bed. The next day, she and I ate breakfast and went out for a walk to the black market, ready to get some foreign fruit for guests that were sure to come later that evening. Though, as I walked, I couldn't help but feel as if someone one was following me. I turned to look over my shoulder several times, but not once found a thing, so I came to the conclusion that I was just being paranoid due to last night's attack. I hid my wounds so my sister would not worry, and thankfully it worked an awful lot.

"After our visitors had eaten their favorite meal, me and my sister cleaned up, washed the dishes, talked for a bit, then went to bed. It was just like any other normal day, excluding the times I felt like a pair of daggers were ready to be thrown at the back of my head, so I was able to sleep peacefully that night. However, the next morning when I woke up, things got a little... weird. I went downstairs, but Lilli, my sister, was not cooking breakfast as usual. I called for her several times, and I became worried. I went to her room, and didn't find her in her bed. I became even more worried, then looked into her study (which was connected to her bedroom.) That's when I found something that will forever give me nightmares. She was dead, with the same dagger the awful man attacked me with stuck into her forehead. I lost my dear sister that night, and I will never be able to sleep peacefully until the man is stopped, captured, and hung before my eyes. Mr. Beilshmidt, I ask for your help. May you capture this man, and may my sister rest in peace."

Gilbert was pleased with the background story to the man's desires, but that did not mean he did not feel the least bit sorry for Vash. True, he'd never say out loud that he felt sorry for someone. He was part of the Beilshmidt family, and he will never show remorse for anyone other than his own younger sibling, Ludwig. Though the story killed him as he related it to his own brother, Gilbert did not show emotion in either his husky voice or his facial features.

Sighing, he slipped on his brown trench coat, buttoning and tying it firmly to his waist, then bolted out the door, not bothering to slap on his favorite fedora hat for he had all he needed in his brother's apartment in London.

At this same time, another man in London was seated in a piano bench, legs crossed. He seemed to be deep in thought, something about his family passing through his mind. His eyes were unreadable, and his expression didn't falter. His breathing stilled in his train of thought, and maids walked by casually, though they were not used to their master's unusual behavior. The man's name was Roderich Edelstein, son of the famous composer, Charles Edelstein. Roderich never liked his father, due to the abuse he inflicted to Roderich's little adopted brother, Feliciano. Roderich was strict with his sibling, trying to make sure that he stayed in check so their father wouldn't hurt him, but Feliciano wouldn't listen, and Roderich would end up hugging the boy and cooing soft whispers into Feliciano's ear. Earlier on, Feliciano had a brother named Lovino, but their parents had filed a divorce, so Feliciano and Lovino were separated. Roderich hated this, and he had to do whatever his father commanded to keep Feliciano as safe as possible.

The thought agitated him. Why can't he just take Feliciano and leave? But, that plan was easily thwarted by the idea that their father would more than likely find them and probably kill Feliciano, and Roderich would never be able to live with himself if that happened. Why not kill his father? No, he'll be caught then. They will know that he's the Living Shadow, because he carries the similar violet eyes. And there were few people who carried such majestic eyes. Nobody accuses him as the Living Shadow, though, because of his famous name. Why would a well taught man with an extraordinary life become a murderer? Such stupidity.

Finally, Roderich found him self once again stumped. He could never put Feliciano in hiding, nor could he send him away to another country. He doesn't want to put the young boy through that. If that happened... then he doesn't know what could happen to his dear brother's sanity. After being brutally abused by his overly strict and expectant father he is suddenly taken away and forced to go into hiding, encased with fear of being caught and most likely killed by the very same man who abused him? He'd be traumatized. Roderich was stumped, and he couldn't do anything about it other than to obey his father's horrid orders of murder. Roderich will do anything to keep Feliciano safe, become a cannibal if so be it, even kill the whole entire royal family of England. If Feliciano is safe, then it is all that matters to him.

Suddenly, tiny footsteps were heard running down the hallow halls, making Roderich smile lightly over his stern features. Feliciano came running out of the hall and rushed towards Roderich.

"Big brother! Big brother! Do you know how to play Claire de Lune? Do you? Do you?"

Roderich chuckled, picking up the excited, pasta loving boy and settling him onto his lap. He patted the boys head, nodding contently. "Of course I know how to play that song. Would you like me to play it, Feli?"

Feliciano giggled, shaking his head and running away in a flash. Roderich chuckled once again, not at all surprised by the boy's never ending flow of energy. He wondered why Feliciano asked such a random question for no obvious reason, but it wasn't much of a problem.

Roderich got up, collecting his music sheets into a neat pile and tucking it into his file, then walked off in his formal, straight back pose, chin up high ever so aristocratically. Maids stopped and stared for a few seconds before going back to their works, smiles instantly placed on their faces as they noticed their master's improved mood. They always thought that their master looked his most handsome when smiling, and it always brightened everyone's mood, though Roderich never noticed. He always took it for something like "the air around him is mixing with his happiness" or something of that matter, so he just shrugged it off.

Though, the happiness was great while it lasted, as his father once again called him into his study, back turned. Roderich hated this room, because he knew that he would be getting another job soon. And by the tapping of the older man's foot, it meant that it was much sooner than he could prepare.

"Roderich, there is a certain person by the name Sadiq Adnan. He wears a mask and has a child by the name of Hercules. His wife, a young woman by the name of Elizaveta, is the one I want you to target, however, I want you to first study Sadiq in secret. I know that wont take long with your fine skills. Now go, I have important business to attend to, and I cannot be late for my meeting with the archdeacon. You are dismissed."

Roderich nodded, exiting the room and closing to the door. Once it was sealed shut, he sighed, his once cheerful mood already turned sour by the very voice of his father. He must obey him, though, for Feliciano's sake. For the sake of an innocent, untainted mind that he has sworn to protect, no matter what the cause.

It was about noon now, by the time he finished working on his new sheets of music, and he was just ready to go outside and bask in the light sunlight. It was Winter, yet that did not mean that there was no sun. But the sun was going to set much too soon, so he made sure to rush to the private gardens without having it be called running, so the maids wouldn't tell his father. If that happened, Feliciano would get hurt. He would hate himself for the rest of life if he let that happen.

Finally, he escaped into the dim, warm light, it touching his skin like the very fingers his mother used to use when she was still around. Soft, gentle, delicate. He missed his mother's warm embraces, and he liked to think of his mother as being the very sun that brightened his day as a child, but now those fantasies were shattered by the wicked man he calls father. Roderich refused to say anything about mother in front of the man, even if he was asked to, because he knows that the man is just trying to get Roderich insane. He knows that his father is just trying to find a way to mess with Roderich's sanity, like a little string around his finger, but he won't crack. Not to him and not to anybody, because he needs to be strong for Feliciano.

He promised to his mother.


	3. Chapter II: The Music of the Ocean

**Okay guys, just advertising for a friend! Go check out Another fish in the sea Another girl in the DWMA if you like Soul Eater. I'm supporting this all the way for her to get some good writing experience! Lol, she's a fast updater too.**

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**The Capture**

_Chapter II: Music of the Ocean_

The boat ride was not as pleasant as Gilbert remembered, he confirmed much too early for his tastes. It rocked from side to side, and the wood squeaked on every step you took. If you stood in one part of the deck for much too long, the floorboards would cave in, which was obviously proven by the young boy staring out at sea. The floor caved in and the crew members all helped the boy out and patch up his injuries. It saddened Gilbert that the old, used-to-be luxurious boat had become a dump since the old captain had died, old man Yao (, who wasn't very old, but Gilbert liked to call him that.) Yao was a man of pride, and loved giving treats to the children that ran around the boat. Gilbert remembered being a small child when he first met Yao, whom at the time was probably 20 years old. He was given a rice cracker, and since he was still new to the foreign food that came from outside of Germany, Gilbert was hesitant. But when he tried it, his world exploded with awesomeness.

Yes, traveling to England was fun at first, but now his favorite childhood boat had come to a very slow business, and probably at risk of being shut down. Yao didn't have anyone to give the boat to, seeing that his brothers and sisters kicked him out of the house, and that he never necessarily made any friends along his long travels over the sea. And Gilbert's father might've been a good choice, but it turns out he died along with Gilbert's mother in a shipwreck. Gilbert would have gladly taken the boat, but he had already chosen a job long before Yao had died. Ludwig couldn't take the boat because he was a doctor, and he was so devoted to being a doctor that changing his job would probably break his heart. Ludwig did try to save Yao, he tried everything, but the disease seeped in and killed him. There was nothing anyone could do.

Gilbert sighed in aggravation, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt of getting the memories out of his head, which already felt light from the sickly way the boat swayed. He paced around for a bit, but stopped since the creaking noises further blunged his brain into the gutter. When will this ride end? He didn't hate the boat, he hated the driver at the moment for his unskilled sailing and bad direction. Even Gilbert could see that he was heading into the wrong direction. The port was more to the left, and Gilbert wanted to go up the the bad captain and yell in his face for his shitty, inept boat handling skills. Though, he was smart enough to know that doing that would lead him to being thrown off the edge of the ship, and Gilbert wasn't up to swimming with the sharks. And the English waters had (and still does, mind you) a _lot_ of sharks, occasionally Great Whites swam around too.

Gilbert sighed and leaned on the foremast, keeping himself from falling through the floorboards. The mast seemed to still be in fine shape, other than the fact that it had an enormous metal plate bolted onto the bottom due to some fracture. His eyes glazed over once he was sure he was stable, trailing over the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, making the sky glow crimson and violet. Gilbert found it soothing, but he wasn't the best with keeping things smooth and gentle, was he? No, he was a rebel. His parents were aggravated with him constantly, and as soon as his 17th birthday passed, he was kicked out.

Gilbert didn't mind much. In fact, he gladly left, much too excited than any other teenager would be when being kicked out by their parents. He packed up his things and used his savings for a oneway ticket to France. Though, he wasn't the best with managing his money, and ended up on the streets almost immediately when he got there. He took on different temporary jobs, like working for a flirtatious baker by the name of Francis Bonnefoy, who became a close friend of his, and he traveled to Spain and met a overly cheerful man named Antonio Fernández Carriedo, who was a successful man in the art of music. Gilbert became close friends with him as well, getting the job as the second dancer with Antonio. He was Antonio's best man as he got married to a wonderful woman named Anneliese, and they even continued doing their job at the wedding, singing and dancing. It was a job that was fun, but didn't call to him as the job he found in France when he traveled back to tell his stories.

What happened seemed simple, a little kid came up to him and asked him for help with a puzzle. Put when you looked closer, you'd notice that he was able to solve something that was quite hard in the matter of two seconds just by observing the pieces. He put it together like he memorized every piece inside and out. Grown-ups did not understand, they just waved it off as nothing, but the kid was certainly amazed. He gathered his friends and tested Gilbert with all the puzzles he and his friends collected, and he never failed once. Gilbert eventually was able to buy a small apartment with the money he earned in one of his temporary jobs and created it into a work place. Thus, he began his career as a renowned German detective living in Paris, right next to Notre Dame.

Yes, that was how he started his career before going back to Brandenburg to occupy another estate. The more lots he bought, the more fame he earned around europe, but he settled down in Germany for the past few years, so he was more widely know in Germany, more specifically, Eastern Germany. His brother, by that time, set off on his way to England for a good education on the human body, and became a well known doctor in London. Gilbert never wondered what his parents were thinking now, if they were proud of either of them or are disappointed in the fact that they chose not to continue the family business of marketing, but he didn't care. Gilbert wouldn't have cared what they thought of the matter at all, because nothing they say can change the way he is now.

With a sigh, he positioned himself more comfortably and stared off into the tawny horizon. The breeze soothed his eyelids, making them droop slowly to the padding rhythm of the swaying ocean and the calling seagulls. His posture relaxed, and his crimson eyes reflected the sun's golden shine, completing the picturesque painting an artist could only dream of. His lips curved upwards. He knew by the time he wakes up they would be at the island, he just needed to take this little nap. Finally, his eyelids ceased to be ajar, and his breathing relaxed and swayed along with the music of the ocean. By then, the orange glow had become purple with the night sky, and stars flashed in a million twinkles overhead.

By this time of night, a man we have been introduced to from earlier on had been in the stolen royal archives, searching through every book without missing a single word. He was careful when reading, making sure to take some time to memorize the names just in case. By now, he should have come across the name of Elizaveta Adnan, but with no luck evident. None of the names that matched had a claret star next to it, and he was sure he did not miss a single file. It frustrated him to no end, yet he did not show it, careful to make sure that the young maids would not mistaken him for being in a foul mood and leave before saying anything. The young ladies often helped him with many things, since they carried much gossip from the outside world, and he wanted to be in good terms with them.

Finally reading through the last of the books that even had the name "Elizaveta" in it, he shoved it back into the shelf and sat down, settling his delicate, long fingers over the bridge of his nose. He's finally reached his climax. Sending a glance to the clock, he growled. It was already midnight, which meant that all the maids were fast asleep in their chambers. He now could show off his angry and pissed off mood to any extent that he wanted, knowing that no one would be fooling around at this time of night.

That is, he thought. He didn't think that anyone would be up until he heard the sound of heeled shoes clanking down the halls, just outside the echoing library. He narrowed his eyes and turned the lights off, creeping into a shadowed corner for no one to see him. He closed his violet eyes, knowing full well that the moonlight would reflect its shine and give his identity away in instants. Just as he thought, the heels ended in front of the door, opening it altogether. Inside went a woman with long, light brown hair, with a large pink flower resting on her ear. She had slightly tan skin and her hazel eyes with lined with black eyeliner and blue eyeshadow. Her full lips were pursed together as she glanced around the room, seeming like a normal, nervous innocent who had done something that wasn't as bad as breaking a law. She wore a maid's outfit, Roderich could tell as he opened his eyes for a quick glance. He relaxed and came out of his hiding spot.

"Madam, you should not be here at this time of night." He said sternly, causing the woman to jump in surprise. She shook from head to toe, confusing poor Roderich for a moment. "What might be your name? Are you a new maid, perhaps?" He asked, unfamiliar with the new face. She nodded, looking down.

"My name... is Elizabeta Herdevary."

Roderich's mind crashed for a moment, staring blankly at the woman next to him. She began to shake more violently, something that didn't go by Roderich unnoticed.

"... Madam Herdevary, you must go to your chambers now. If my father catches you... it will not be a good sight." He said, giving her a sympathetic look. A fake one, of course, but no one would be able to tell. Not even his father could read him. Elizabeta nodded, turning around and walking back up to her chambers. Roderich now had something different on his mind, going back to turn the light on once more and to start searching the the archives. And there he found it, the claret star glistening with the moonlight by the name recently learned. Elizabeta Herdevary.

He grinned, happy to finally receive the information he's been seeking, and placed the book onto the desk for later. Now, he would just open his windows and listen intently to the relaxing tune. He laid his head gently onto the windowsill, letting the wind whizz by his chocolate locks, send the pleasant music of the ocean towards his eardrums. A soothing tune that always relaxed him. The same soothing tune that his mother used to sing along with when he was a child to have him fall asleep. Oh how he missed his mother's voice, and the song she used to sing.

Lightly, in a soft, angelic tone, Roderich began to sing, imagining himself singing a duet with his mother's voice. Little did he know that both of their voices carried out through the breezes, sending it's tune to a crimson eyed man, sleeping softly and dreamlessly out at sea.

"Come to me, by the tawny sea~ For thee shall listen to the music of the ocean, stirring the torrent with much motion. Come to me, by the tawny sea~"


	4. Chapter III: Port

**Lol, guys, I decided since you know, you guys like dirty stuff, I made Gilbert a little pervert. It just fits, you know?**

**Warning: Prussian Dirty Thoughts. **

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**The Capture**

_Chapter III: Docks_

The sunrise shone chrome yellow onto Gilbert's eyelids, the blackness behind them turning into a fleshy pink, causing his slumber to slowly diminish itself from his state of mind. Gilbert could not help but wonder what happened last night, as he vaguely remembered a strange, yet angelic tune of a song that matched the sea's rhythm. He was sure he did not dream, but it didn't matter anymore did it?

Yawning, he got up and twisted out the knots in his back and neck, stretching out every sore, sleeping limp, uncaring to the pins and needles it brought. Gilbert gazed of the salty ocean, seeing the vegetation of the green island up ahead, new and old docks lined around the edge that gave off the similar image of a stubble on a man's chin. Gilbert frowned, noticing how different the port's map seemed. Most of the ships were new, and the cobble ground seemed more than just worn down, considering you could see giant chunks from Gilbert's view missing from the edge of the concrete. There were coal black houses, obviously burnt down, and Gilbert wondered if there was a battle here. Maybe Germany decided to screw around the ocean side of England too. Or maybe its just some common, amateur pirate looking for some good amusement in pillaging the fuck out of innocent people's hometowns. Though, with all the differences, the smell of fresh fish, sweat, and blood was still a familiar mix in the sea breeze's scent. It was a scent that never seemed to fade, not even in the smoke of burning homes and sand dust spewing through the air in all directions.

Yes, even with a different map, the port always stayed the same. The same boastful and proud fishermen, stinking up nearby pubs with bad breath, rotting fish scent, and alcohol. Same sailors calling out to each other from random directions, boarding barrels of food and water for ongoing journeys. Same bad food. (In Gilbert's opinion, considering that this was a port, not some fancy square with five star restaurants around every corner, filled with fancy, polite, and refined butler and maids, heeding your every command. Who the hell would expect something like that anywhere _near_ this place?)

Taking a deep breath, Gilbert smiled as the island grew larger and larger into view. (The view was the only reason why he didn't scrunch up his nose in disgust of the rugged, ugly stench.) The people just barely were visible, looking like ants carrying bread crumbs around an anthill. His amusing thoughts of human ants stopped, however, when he found one ant that didn't particularly match with the rest of the black and brown, sometimes red ants. (The red ones being the drunk, red faces sailors singing in lines of broken tunes, merrily on their way to grab a prostitute.) Digging into his pocket, Gilbert pulled out a pair of small binoculars, looking through them for a better look. Upon closer inspection, the ant transformed into an elegant, yet annoyed aristocrat, seemingly frustrated with a young, lazy looking fisher-boy. Uncaringly, the fisher-boy waved his hand in a sluggish manner, which seemed to anger the aristocrat even more, but Gilbert was paying any attention to the body language the two were having. (Other than the nice, defined, swaying hips the nobleman cocked, too dangerous to be walking around the docks with any sailor.) Gilbert was paying attention to the aristocrat's features. His clothes were not flashy, considering the man was only wearing a simple dress shirt, buckled shoes, and suspenders, but it was so painfully obvious how refined he was compared to all the other locals. His clothes were clean and new-looking, shining bright amongst the dirty, tattered clothing. His skin was a milky pale, smooth, and unblemished, competing with any beautiful, royal woman's skin that could ever have. His auburn hair looked silky and soft, probably more comfortable than any blanket ever sewn. A beauty mark was placed beautifully on the right of the man's chin, and Gilbert actually bothered to try and remembered what that represented. (Caring? Or was that for a mole on the cheek?) But what intrigued Gilbert most of all was the man's glowing, violet eyes.

Gilbert did not question the odd color, given that he had crimson eyes and shiny silver hair. (Most say he is albino, but was albino has eyes that have such deep colored eyes such as that? And albinos don't have silver hair, they have pale, whitish-blonde!) But, as he stared at them, the more ideas popped into his head. Who did those eyes belong to?

Now, let us, dear readers, switch to Roderich's point of view, the aristocratic man speaking with the fisher-boy. He simply decided to run his errands, like any sane person would do, and something very important was on his list. Buying fish for dinner. The fisher-boy, however, had different ideas, as he rudely said "We only sell to normal people." Roderich was normal, wasn't he? He had his rights, and it's his damn well right to buy fish freely without such stupid complications! Why, after all the times he's bought fish from the same store, the fisherman's son, fisher-boy, had to be a dickwad and refuse to sell him fish!

"I say, sir, I have been here many times before, and I have never been told once while buying that I wasn't aloud to buy fish. Please stop this horrendous act and let me buy the three bass I need to cook dinner tonight." Roderich did not once raise his voice, but his annoyance was clearly written all over his face. The fisher-boy was either blind, or just simply did not care (most likely the latter), for he said something very rude.

"New rule. You can't buy."

Roderich, by now, was furious, and longed for the ivory keys of his piano against his fingertips, as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He desperately needed to burn off his frustration, but this was a port, and therefore there wasn't going to be any musical instruments anywhere, any time soon. A port. Not a musical theatre. For once, he wished his father didn't decided to take a sudden vacation away from London. This time, he didn't feel up to new surroundings. He especially did not feel up to waking up at 3:00 O'clock in the morning after staying up until midnight, then taken halfway across the island on a loud, infuriating carriage ride. He guessed that it was for the mission tonight, considering he, his father, and Feliciano went without any maids. That meant that Elizabeta was at the mansion, awaiting her death.

With a sigh, Roderich took one more look at the fisher-boy, glaring daggers though his moldy irises, his own violet ones gleaming in a certain way no one can describe. "I refuse to say this ever again. I am going to buy a fish, whether you like it or not. Three. Bass." The fisher-boy, his survival senses finally turning on, picked up three fine, juicy bass from the rows of fish in front of him, wrapping them individually in brown paper, very unskillfully. (Like Roderich cared or noticed.) Once he handed them to Roderich, he took a step back, slightly afraid of what would happen next. Roderich, pleased to finally end the pointless argument, turned around to go and finish his next errands, but stopped. Something caught his eyes in a tiny flash of crimson. He searched the vast sea for a moment, catching small glimpses to give out hints of where it was coming from, and finally pinpointed the location. A ship, close to docking, has a small, ant sized man (or woman, he couldn't tell), who seemed to be shining something crimson at Roderich. Roderich, of course, didn't know if it was really meant for him, so he just continued to stare for a moment, before moving off to finish his errands.

Now, lets return to Gilbert. By now, you could say he was practically drooling at the beautiful man he just saw. Gilbert admits, he is bisexual, and it seems that he definitely felt _something_ for _that_ guy. (If you know what I mean.) The way the aristocrat turned his lithe figure towards the direction to the sea, seemingly happy to final resolve a problem, made Gilbert feel a bundle of nerves in his stomach to rumble and twitch like hell. Was this what people mean by "Butterflies in your stomach?" Because if so, Gilbert sure was loving it.

Slowly, he set down the binoculars, noticing that the man broke contact with his gaze. But holy shit. When that guy looked at him, those eyes pierced right into his nerves. All over. It made him shiver in delight, and his cheeks burnt like a brand. Lips twitching up, he stared at the clean, white ant, rushing through the bustling black ones with ease. So, the nobleman definitely wasn't some stuck up, "I don't know how to survive on my own" type of noble, hm? That made it all the more interesting. And considering that he just bought some bass, he doesn't stay indoors all the often. The guy was a package of beautiful, polite, skilled, and obviously, healthy. Gilbert had the urge to run up to him, pin him down, and rip off that fine, white dress shirt, then trace the outlines of the muscle that obviously hid under. Then he would trail bite marks over his torso, and grind against his-

His thoughts were interrupted by the ridiculously loud bell on the ship, making him groan in annoyance. "Shut up bell, I'm having dirty thoughts. Damn cockblocker..." He muttered under his breath. (That's right, readers. Gilbert was the true inventor of the word cockblock.) He noticed that the bell wasn't going to shut up any time soon until everyone was ready to board off the boat, which aggravated him no less. Reluctantly, Gilbert when to his cabin and gathered his suitcase, taking an additional ring he found in between the mattresses, and went out. The boat docked not that long after, and Gilbert immediately searched around to see where the heck that sexy aristocrat ran off to.

Well, where the hell do aristocrats go to?

...

Why, the pub, of course! Where else?

And so Gilbert went to the pub, sitting down casually as if he wasn't a stalker. A British bartender walked over, cleaning the inside of a glass cup. "What it be?" He asked, a slight accent close to a low voiced pirate. Gilbert put down a couple of bucks and smiled childishly. "Beer." Nodding, the Briton picked up the bills and set the, now clean, glass down under a tap, letting it fill to the brim, then placed it in front of Gilbert.

"So, Gilbert, what's a traveller like you doing in England, hm?"

Gilbert, of course, was both shocked and suspicious. He just walked into an old pub and got a drink from a guy he's never met or know, but the guy just so happens to know him. Was he drunk once he came here? "The question is; how the _hell_ do you know me?" Gilbert corrected. The Brit just laughed. "I don''t know you. I've heard of you. Best detective there is. Oh, that, and I've met a certain annoying Frenchman when I visited Paris. Tried to seduce me. Little bugger."

Gilbert cracked a grin, relieved of any suspicion. "Francis? _The_ Francy-pants? Poor you, you gut the worst of 'em." A snort. "I'm happy to know he still remembers me, though. Haven't seen the perverted baker in a while."

"Oh, he's doing _just_ fine. Trust me." The conversation ended short, however, when someone walked in, silencing all of the drunken sailors and nutty fishermen. In came the aristocrat that Gilbert knew would show up, hands full with bundles of food and new clothes. "Arthur, do you by any chance know where Feliciano ran off to? Seen him? Father and I can't seem to find him..." He sighed. "Again."

Arthur, the bartender, chuckled and called into a room by the table. "Feli, yer brother is here to pic ya up. You changed out of them dirty clothes?" Out came a cute boy in matching suspenders, a little newsboy hat tucked snuggly on his head. "Si, I changed! Ciao, cousin Arthur!" Feliciano yelled happily, running over to hug Arthur's leg, then to hide behind Roderich's. Roderich smiled, true and genuine, and for a moment, Gilbert's heart skipped a beat. What the hell was that? What did the aristocrat just do to him? "Thank you so much, Arthur. I would have died if I lost him."

"Or hunt down the person who took him and murder him." Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yer the most overprotecting brother that ever walked the earth. Now get ya arse out my my pub, yer making the sailors faint." Roderich shot a confused look, but shrugged and turned around, Feliciano quick to move with him. He took one look behind his shoulder, directly into Gilbert's eyes, then left without a trace.

London could wait, Gilbert has some unfinished business to attend to at the port.


	5. Chapter IV: Suicidal

**Hey guys~ Sorry for the prolonged wait. My mum and sis are off at Vegas and my Dad is in Egypt, while I'm at home alone at the moment. My baby sister is going to pick me up later to stay at her house, so I have some time to finish the chapter and write some more, let out my dog to go potty, and get my stuff packed for tomorrow. :3 Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**Warnings: Suicidal stories. (If you couldn't tell by the chapter name.) Don't worry, no gory details.**

* * *

**The Capture**

_Chapter IV: Suicidal_

After Roderich had taken his leave, the sailors and fishermen quickly returned to their boisterous and pathetic selves. Note, that I said sailors and fishermen. I did not mention Gilbert or the bartender, did I? Gilbert's mind remained occupied by the _oh so charming_ Roderich with his _oh so sexy_ figure. He licked his lips, lustful thoughts flashing before his eyes once more with far more of an intensity, all of the images full of those daring, violet orbs that locked with his own. His head slugged down, staring deeply at the platform in front of him as his thoughts became dirty and perverted.

"Well, when is it going to be? The wedding that is, with you and that table yer staring at. You two done it yet?" The Briton smirked, feeling accomplished to get the ablino (or not-albino) to blush furiously. He rolled his eyes, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "You fancy Roderich, it seems. Just like any man or woman would. Well, you might as well give up. The lad himself doesn't even realize how he changes men's sexuality, and I definitely doubt he would notice your liking of him."

Gilbert simply glared, his determination fuming out of his ears like a volcano. Arthur knew full well that the boy was going to prove him terribly wrong, he just wanted to push the lad a little bit. Who knows, maybe this would be more entertaining than expected. A handsome, yet generally poor detective falling for a rich, beautiful aristocrat? What an overused cliché, it's pathetic, really, but when you think of it, it's romantic, is it not? That, and the only thing different from "the poor falling for the rich" cliché is that this time it is in between two men, not opposite genders.

"Look, kid, I don't actually doubt yer abilities. It's just that you got a low chance. I've known Roderich for five years, and I assure you, it isn't easy to get his attention, red eyes or not. Though, you can try. He _did_ give you a glance, right? Shows that he's got some interests."

"What are you to him?" Gilbert asked suddenly, crossing his legs in a dominant manner. Arthur noticed this and crackled.

"Well, kid, I'm his savior." Gilbert didn't question the absurd answer, though he definitely was curious. Arthur noticed this as well, and elaborated. "Roderich was young when we first met, about twelve or so. I was twenty. He was too smart for his age, so he never got along with the kids in his neighborhood. They usually treated him like a stuck up noble. He was anything but. I caught the boy several times climbing a tree just to get a fresh apple. Any other nobleman would ask someone else to get it for them, like a maid, right?"

Gilbert nodded, understanding what he meant.

"Well, he began to get a little more strange. He asked his father to go out by himself when he was fourteen. I was twenty-two by then. The boy dressed up in some dress shirt and suspenders, slapped on a newsboy hat, and darted out the house like a scurrying mouse. He came back later stinking like salt water and dirt. Turned out he saved a kid, Peter, from drowning. And it just so happens that Peter is my baby half-brother." He paused for a moment, an irritated look on his face. "Peter hates me for some reason, and I have to constantly lecture the kid on stuff." He shrugged and went back to the story. "By about a month or two after his fourteenth birthday, he had been given the gift of two baby brothers named Feliciano and Lovino. He treated the two like they were the most precious things the world could ever offer, and it was true, to his eyes."

The smile that graced his face when speaking of the two new brothers crashed into a grave frown. "However, when he became eighteen years old, his parents divorced. His mother took Lovino, while his father kept him and Feliciano. It tore his heart when he realized that Feliciano didn't have any idea what was happening, and that the boy thought he would see Lovino again. He didn't know that their mother moved across the ocean to Spain, and married another man."

Gilbert vaguely looked back into one of his memories, remembering Antonio's wedding, but dismissed it, realizing that the chance that Antonio was the man who married Roderich's mother was as low as zero.

"Roderich then began to try and commit suicide, for some reason that I have no idea why."

The whole pub went silent, all men and sailors now having their full attention on Arthur's story.

"Roderich's first attempt ended up in near disaster. He climbed up the tallest tree in the woods nearby and jumped. The only reason he survived was because he was caught by a rather large animal. His second attempt was with a knife. He stabbed himself in the chest and was sent to the hospital. He didn't hit his heart, fortunately. The third attempt was drowning himself. Some sailor saw that Roderich wasn't coming back up and dove for him."

A sailor in the pub looked down, taking off his hat in a sorry solute.

"His fourth attempt was the worst. He tried to hang himself. And his brother caught him."

If it was possible, the pub went even more silent than before, not even the simple sounds of breath filling the room. Gilbert was stalk still, trying to process the information through his head. A nobleman trying to kill himself, and failing every time.

"The fifth time was a little better, easier. He locked himself in his room and planned to starve to death. I, however, was visiting at the time for some official business with his father, and noticed the boy coughing. He was obviously ill." With another sigh, Arthur pulled out a chair and sat down. "I had to break the door open and force feed him. I gave him a good, hard lecture, and forced him to tell me everything. Well, almost everything. He wouldn't tell me why he was trying to kill himself in the first place, but for sure, I know it wasn't because of the divorce. There was something that seemed to be forcing him."

"What if I told you I could figure that out?"

"And what if I told you it was impossible?"

A long pause filled the air, choking on all who remained in the old pub. Gilbert kept his gaze locked onto Arthur's emerald ones, not wavering in the slightest. His hands sweated, and his insides churned.

"What if I told you that I have no limits?" Gilbert said, defying all that Arthur had gave to him. He got up, slid his empty cup to the Briton, and left wordlessly. If he had stayed any longer, he might've caught the mysterious glint in Arthur's eyes, as his lips curled upwards in mischief. He whipped out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up over the candle that flickered in the middle of the table. He set it on his lips and took a drag, huffing it out expertly.

"I'd say go for it."

* * *

As soon as Gilbert exited the pub, the boisterous clattering and singing began in full blast, sending the now deserted roads into an echoing mess. The stars were now lit up in the sky, and the cobble turned cold and frosty. Dark clouds subjugated the skies, barely letting the bright, outer space objects shine through. The sun had long since set over the horizon, past the island, with a crescent moon barely visible past the houses and mills. Crickets played, and wild rabbits and dogs scampered feverishly across the stones in search for shelter. Roderich was long gone.

"Well, guess I'll come by here tomorrow to see the aristocrat. Probably visit the pub again, if he looses that kid. What's his name again? Veneziano? Something like that. Sounded a bit long. Whatever, I know what he and the kid looks like, it's good enough for me." With a shrug, he trotted out to the nearest inn, suitcase still clutched in his calloused hands. His head bobbed left to right to the loud music that played, more sailors screaming louder than the pub. A woman with orange, braided hair and dressed in overalls walked over, glasses giving her eyes a bigger look.

"Hey their, mister! You lookin' for a place to stay the night?"

Gilbert slowly nodded, a little disturbed by the girl's sudden casualty. "I'm not sure how long I'll be staying, I'll pay after every night. I prefer not to share a room, if that's okay."

The girl nodded, laughing more loudly and proudly than all of the sailors. "Sure thing, mister! Just need your first an' last name! I'll be working out the rest after that!" Gilbert chuckled, giving out his name. He sat down at a nearby table, legs crossed as he wondered about the story he was given by the bartender, Arthur. Roderich was obviously suicidal, if the point didn't come across to you people who read. But if he was so determined to kill himself, he needed a reason to do so. Not only that, but why did he stop in the first place? You can't just suddenly stop like that, no other person who is suicidal would. He obviously had some reason, for sure. Now all that Gilbert needed was some background story, and he'll be on his way to cracking this case.

"You know, I'm not sure if you followed me or if you're really just here to get a room for the night. Both, maybe?"

Gilbert's eyes snapped up, meeting with the violet ones that he was so mesmerized with before, and still is. He cracked a grin, noticing the amused glint in the aristocrat's eyes, and laughed proudly. "Nope. Just wanted a place to stay. I didn't even think _you'd_ be here, so this must be a bonus. Kinda been wondering about you. You're a bit strange."

"I know." Roderich said, sitting down casually in one of the seats, a way that a noble would never have done, no matter what the place. "And I honestly do not care."

Gilbert laughed harder. "Yup, not like any noble _I've _heard of! You're an interesting guy, I say! Not only do you act different, but you look different too!"

"And I assume you are saying that because of my unusually purple eyes?"

Gilbert shook his head. So the aristocrat didn't know how much of a lady killer he was, huh? (Though, Gilbert had no idea how true that was.) Then again, he was a man killer as well, wasn't he? Considering that sailors gawked at his lithe figure and perfect arse. Unblemished, mealy skin and sharp, crystal eyes, with his brown, defining hair and full lips. A button nose and slender, delicate fingers that seemed to look as if it could break it you held them. Men usually did not look like this, and it seemed that Roderich either didn't care, or didn't notice. Most likely the latter.

"No. Something else. But that's not all that important, right? Anyways, why do you act so differently, huh? Someone teased you about being too prissy and you just snapped, maybe?"

"No. And I don't intend on telling you."

"So I'm right."

Roderich furrowed his eyebrows, a bit ticked that Gilbert made such a quick assumption of him just because he didn't feel like answering.

"Hear you, I never snapped at someone for being called prissy. I could seriously care less if someone thought I looked like a gorilla." Gilbert snorted. "The only reason I act this way is because I want to be whoever the hell I want to be, and my father cant keep me locked up in a cage to be someone I'm not." Unless it comes to Feliciano, Roderich added in his head. "But I'd like to ask why you were staring at me from that ship earlier this afternoon. It was a bit strange."

Gilbert thought for a moment, and smirked. Roderich, for once, felt a bit regretful that he even asked, and thought to himself that he maybe shouldn't have approached the albino in the first place. "Well, little master, I thought you looked really different and cleaner than the rest of the little ants hustling around with bread crumbs."

A mischievous grin made it's way up to Roderich's face. "Oh? Is that so? Then I'll be leaving for the time being. My father and Feliciano are probably wondering where I am." He stood up, playing with a ring on his finger for a moment, and threw it toward Gilbert, who caught it with ease. Gilbert inspected the features, noticing the black cross that resembled his iron cross necklace. He also noticed that it looked like the ring he picked up earlier and placed on his finger. It was an exact match.

He looked up to say something to Roderich, but stopped as he noticed that the mysterious aristocrat had disappeared within the sea of rowdy men.


	6. Chapter V: Realization

**Um, yeah, Howdy ho. Privet. Ciao. Aloha. Hola. Konishiwa. Bonjour. Guten tag. You get it. Anyways, guys, I need to explain the Alternate Universe here. Anyways, this era is not an era in history, its a completely different universe with a war at the moment, but it's quite little. Just a bit more than a battle, you can say, between Germany, Spain, and England. The technology is slightly similar to ours, but still developing, and thats why there are mostly dirt roads instead of cement. I'll add more detail at the end of this chapter.**

* * *

**The Capture**

_Chapter V: Realization_

Gilbert's night was not as peaceful as it should have been that night. His body jolted itself awake multiple times, which was starting to make him think that there was something wrong with his nerves, but was quickly proved wrong once he finally closed his eyes and slept. Though, his dreams were not as safe as he thought either. They were completely clouded with those mysterious violet eyes, vivid in every way. He wondered, why were they so deeply pressed into his mind? Was he forgetting something? His mind worked its gears, trains filled with memories and ideas flashing by its station, some crashing and disappearing from existence. Finally, one specific train stopped at the station, filling Gilbert's head with text and letters.

_On the night of December 29th, a man with unspeakably vivid eyes encountered me in an alley way. I don't know how, but I escaped within an inch of my life. It happened in a blur, he jumped at me and lashed a silver dagger around like a wild beast. I had a glance at his face, though, I cannot describe him. He looked young, around 20 or maybe even 19 years old. He had vivid violet eyes, and for a second, I was transfixed by how beautiful someone could be. It got me wondering if he might have been a woman dressed in mens clothing, but I threw that thought away as soon as he smiled. His teeth were a clean ivory, and under the moonlight... it was horrifying yet entrancing, and I partially knew why he was able to kill so easily._

Everything clicked in his mind, eyes snapping open in a furry of fright. He jumped out of his bed, leaving the blanket to float down to the floor, and opened a drawer without taking his time to be the least but gentle with its handle. He took out a piece of paper, a pencil, and a small light. He turned the light on, placing it between his teeth and biting on it as he looked down onto the paper and began to scribble furiously.

_What I Know About Roderich Edelstein,_

_Appearance: Button nose, ivory teeth, vivid violet eyes, chocolate hair, fair skin, and lethe body. _

_Attitude/Personality: He can be snarky, a tad uncaring, but obviously passionate to the things he loves. He is in a state of sadness, something is making him want to kill himself. He must feel caged. He didn't kill himself, he stopped trying, something must be forcing him! It's so much more than just "obvious" that he's fixed on his death! He can't just suddenly stop like that!_

_Sociality: He is casual when in the presence of others; most of the time. He doesn't seem to be completely honest, and though it's hard to see, he seems to be hiding something in that casual state of his._

_Class: Aristocrat. That's more painfully obvious than anything else._

_Family: As far as I know, a mother who he can no longer see, two little brothers, one of which is with the mother, and a father. I don't know about the father, but Roderich and his brother seemed to like their mother a lot. Maybe that's why Roderich committed all those suicide attempts? Then again, he stopped much to abruptly. Maybe he felt guilty that his little brother saw one of his attempts, and he decided to stop? No... His pertinacity and pride would keep him from that, surely. Then again, he loves his little brother. He'd probably do anything for him._

"Anything for him..."

Gilbert, then, realized an important detail that blew by his thoughts so carelessly.

* * *

Roderich was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the job he was given the other night as he was too occupied with his craving for slumber, but he eventually had to wake up. A small pair of hands pushed on his torso, shaking him awake from his much needed rest. He was in half the mind to growl at the person who woke him up, but immediately stopped as he caught sight of the familiar reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes, worried and awake. "Feliciano, why are you awake? It's..." He groggily checked the clock, propping himself on one arm. "Midnight. Feliciano, it's midnight."

"I couldn't sleep."

Roderich froze, contemplating what to do in his mind, before sighing and getting up. "Go to your room, Feli. I'll be there in a minute or so."

"But I'm scared to go alone!"

Roderich raised an eyebrow, wondering why Feliciano would be scared to just walk through the door into his room and lay in bed, but shook the thought immediately. He frowned, remembering that Feliciano was a small boy, not grown. It made perfect sense. He looked down at Feliciano's begging eyes and sighed, not being able to resist his little brother's wishes. "Alright, alright. I'll go with you. If you get scared, just give my hand a squeeze, okay? I'll make sure none of the monsters get you." Smile reappearing onto his features, Roderich outstretched his hand to grab Feliciano's delicate soft one. Feliciano gulped,, alrieady tightening his grip onto the elder's stronger palm. The two walked out of the small, narrow room through a door that led to another room, equally in size, with a smaller bed. Feliciano quickly jumped onto the bed and covered himself, eyes staying on Roderich's violet orbs, and expectant look etched into them. With a low chuckle, Roderich walked over to Feliciano and crouched down, placing a hand on the boy's hair gingerly. He ran his fingers through the delicate strands, smiling at his brother's at ease expression. "Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?"

"Yes please," Feliciano said politely.

With a slow nod, Roderich began to sing in a gentle, soft whisper. "Come to me, by the tawny sea. For thee shall listen to the music of the ocean, stirring the torrent with much motion. Come to me, by the tawny sea." Feliciano's eyelids felt heavy, his body half asleep.

"What about the other part?" He said drowsily.

"Other part?"

"Yeah. The one about freedom. You know that one, right? Mother sang that part like an angel. She was so moving."

"She was." Roderich agreed. "I remember that verse. It was her favorite part." And Roderich finally understood why. The realization his him full on when she and his father divorced. She was dreaming of freedom from _him._ From _his _household and _his_ rules. "I am a bit rusty with the lyrics, but I know most of it by heart. Would you like me to sing it?"

"Yes please."

There was a short silence as Roderich tried to remember the beginning of the next verse. "Through the wind, through the seas, my voice will reach thy ears with glee. At that moment, you find me, I will finally be free." Roderich knew who his mother was singing about, who she wanted that message to reach. That other man, across the ocean, in Spain. It was him. And yet, he could not hate her for that. His father wasn't exactly the most likable person, after all.

"Go on," Feliciano urged, realizing his mistake a bit too late and adding in a simple, "please."

And so Roderich continued, trying his best to forget about the past, what he learned about his mother's travels, how she will no longer be with him. "I'll spread my wings, spread them wide, then take off after the tawny sky." He paused for a moment, thinking on the next lyrics. He was a bit rusty at this part. "My feathers will fall, float down below, then grow high at night, spreading it's blue glow."

By now, Feliciano's eyes were fully closed, his breathing in a steady pace. Roderich smiled at this, and placed a tender kiss onto Feliciano's forehead. "Goodnight, Feliciano. Sweet dreams."

"Are you quite done yet?"

And then, the once calm and peaceful mood crumbled into a million pieces.

"I was expecting you to be finishing up your mission by now. Not putting a useless baby to sleep."

Roderich kept his back facing Charles, his father, muttering under his breath in protest. "Don't you dare call him useless." That, however, went unheard.

"Well, what are you doing just crouching down there? Get on with your _bloody_ job." The pun was obviously intended in his sickening words, and Roderich felt ill. "I'll be waiting."

Roderich got up, back still facing his father, as he stayed silent for a moment. Reluctantly, he responded. "Yes... sir."

With a smirk, Charles exited through a door leading to his won bedroom, whispering a cocky remark over his shoulder. "Good doggy."

Roderich frowned, quickly being followed by the shutting of the door. Doggy? Was that really all he was now? Some little pup following the orders of his so called "Master?"

"I can't really deny it though..." Roderich admitted. " But I can say, even as a pitiful mutt, I can still guard over the one I love most. I'm not some old, slow dog. I'm a guardian for an innocent soul, and that gives me more than enough reason to live and obey. It's not for _him_."

With a confident attitude, he headed for the door of his bedroom, taking a quick glance towards little Feliciano's figure. He let one last smile grace his face, before shutting the door behind to prepare for his late night activity.

Once alone in his room, he darted towards is closet, taking out a set of black and white clothing. He threw off his pajamas, folding them and tucking them deep into on of his drawers, and put on the fine, white dress shirt, then draped a pure black cloak over his shoulders. He put on tight, black pants, buckling it with a leather belt, then strapped on black, leather boots, which went above his knees. Once his tight boots were secured on nicely, he took out a pair of gloves out of another one of his drawers and fitted his hands into them nicely. His disguise was nearly complete. All he was missing was... "Ah, there it is." Roderich said, picking up a silver dagger that sat by the windowsill, moonlight glowing over its blade. "Time to move on to my task."

Being fully prepared, Roderich positioned himself on the window, one leg reading to push. Wind blew his short locks in a frenzy. He took a deep, long breath, his eyes closed gently. "This is for Feliciano. No one else. Absolutely no one." Slowly, his eyes opened, staring down at the dark pavement below him, three stories down, his face devoid of all emotion. He exhaled the breath he was holding unconsciously, and with a gentle push of the leg, he jumped.

* * *

**Okay, I admit, that chapter was a bit short, huh? But anyways, I lied. I'm not going to continue on the Alternate Universe thing. I am going to write that all out and post it as another story later, okay? I'll post the story and then finish a chapter of The Capture immediately afterwards, therefore you will be notified about the explanation of the Alternate Universe Explanation in the chapter. So, hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, please tell me so in a review! Reviews somehow boost my inspiration. (I seriously have no idea how, but they do.) So, more reviews, faster updates, so, yeah! Au revoir, Auf weidersen, Adios, Ciao, Sionara, Poka, yeah, I dunno how to spell in different languages, but I can speak them, I swear! Anyways, ta-ta for now!**


	7. Chapter VI: The Beginning Act

**Hey, so yeah, I haven't finished the Alternate Universe thing, and I apologize for that, but it seemed to be much more complicated than it looks. Forgive me! ;w; I decided that I would just post this chapter to get it over with and let you guys read. Why have you wait for the Alternate Universe Explanation to read this, right? Oh, and I mention a drug in this chapter, and I need to inform you, tetradotoxin does NOT work this way. It will kill you almost as soon as you ingest it, so please to not try to obtain this substance for the fun of faking a stupid death. It only acts like this in fictional movies and stories, not in real life. I gave you warning! **

* * *

**The Capture**

_Chapter VI: The Beginning Act_

Roderich landed with a simple, quiet thump, like a ball of paper, which should have been nearly impossible for any other human being. After he landed, he searched his surroundings with a careful eyes, hoping to have not been spotted leaving the inn, before pushing his legs at a sudden jolting speed. Stray animals moved out of his way, already well aware that he was going to go "hunting" this night. Gossip spreads like a wildfire in the animal world, and Roderich knew that much too well. He remembered a certain mission he went through, and animals were in the way. Many. But that was another story, for he was currently closing in on his own household, not but a half a mile away.

Once finally reaching the gates of the mansion, he stopped, not tired from his outrageously long trek, considering he's been through worse, having to swim across the sea, with no boat, and climbing over the mountains of Japan. (Damn Mt. Fuji, I'm never going back to Japan! That was horrid!) He had stared at the gates for a long time, pounding in bitter amusement of the irony that he was breaking into his own home. "How pathetic." He he snickered, unlocking the gates easily with the key he had snooped from his father quite easily. The old man wouldn't notice, nor care, anyways. Roderich would give it back by sunrise.

The gates swung open with a metallic scratching sound, which would awake sleeping creatures guarding the house for sure. The guard dogs respected Roderich, at least, so they wont hurt him. (Other than that knew one that was taken in off the streets and trained, it hasn't ever seen Roderich before. But surely, he'll be fine. That dog was still a newbie.) He ghosted around the front garden, vigil eyes darting left and right to make sure there was no one following him, or at least getting any glimpse of him and living to speak a word of it. He wouldn't let that happen, for Feliciano's sake.

He made it to the doors, but did not open them. Checking through the peephole, he found two maids, outside of their chamber's, one being Elizabeta. "Hm..." A suspicious look crossed Roderich's features as he watched the young woman take out a few files, and he saw a flicker of a claret mark on one of the pages. Realization slowly sunk in, and he wasn't sure what to do. Kill them both? But that would leave blood on the files. And they already know that Elizabeta was next, considering that one of those files was hers. He was in a pickle. A big pickle. And he needed a way out of this. And excuse of some sort. But what could he say? What could he do? They had enough proof to claim that he was the murderer of all those innocent people, they have more power than Roderich could deal with, so what could he say to make those two woman believe that he's not the one? That he's not the Living Shadow?

"...I got it." He whispered, going out of the doors way and heading to the library window. It was left wide open, much to his likings, and he jumped through carelessly, not really thinking about what could happen. He sat down at the desk and got a journal out, titling it "Investigation journal #2." He jot down some logical things into the first entry, and sighed. If only he wasn't the Living Shadow, but he was. And he had to-

"What are you doing here?"

Roderich jumped out of the chair, hiding the pen behind his back, realizing much too late that he left the book out of plain view. "O-oh, hello, Elizabeta! Um, good day to you? Or night, I guess, considering that it's 12:30."

"What is that?"

"Absolutely nothing." Roderich said, grabbing the book feverishly. "Just something I forgot to bring on the journey. I came to get it back."

"How did you get here?"

Roderich frowned, crossing his arms in annoyance. "Your questions are beginning to give me a headache, miss. I suggest you go back to your quarters now... And lock your doors."

"So you may kill me in there?"

Roderich pulled a convincing look of confusion, letting his arms drop to his sides. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb. You want to kill me. You killed all those other people, the ones in those files. They all had red starts stamped onto their pages. Mine did too. You want to kill me, with that bloody silver knife of yours."

"I do not want to kill you, Elizabeta, why would you _ever_ believe that?" That was true. Roderich did not want to kill the poor woman. He never wanted to kill anyone. All he ever wanted was to keep Feliciano safe and sound, let him sleep peacefully at night, and stay cheerful in the morning. (He wondered, really, if that was too much to ask for.)

"I don't believe it." The woman said stubbornly. "I know it. Why else would you have those stars there? It's like a trophy for you isn't it? You kill that person, find their files, then _mark them_, like they're some type of sick trophy for you. Do you plan on killing everyone in the bloody files that you carry?"

"I do NOT MAKE PEOPLE MY TROPHIES!" Roderich angrily threw his book at Elizabeta, nearly cracking her in the head, just nearly. It fell by his side, wide open, to the entry that Roderich had just wrote down. Elizabeta gazed down at the book, his eyes curious, yet suspicious, before lifting it up into her hands and reading the entry.

"_I have encountered a woman today that fits the description. I'm almost positive that she is going to be the next victim. She probably knows this too, because she is a new made. She knows about the protection that this house carries. I'm glad she came here, it makes this investigation much more easy. The man might come here! I may be able to finally figure out who he is... and possibly, his background story. No one murders in such a way for the sake of it. He has a reason, even if it's just a little one, or because it's a silly reason like realizing that the world doesn't have his same views. No one becomes a murderer for nothing. Every criminal has a reason, even if it's a ridiculous one._"

Elizabeta stayed silent, staring at the cursive writing in horror. Roderich did not dare break the silence, watching as her body trembled all over. She slowly looked up, her eyes watery. "You are him, aren't you? You're forced to do this."

That's when Roderich realized that it was impossible to trick this woman. She knew everything, and there was no way out of this. "Yes." Roderich admitted, sitting down at the desk and rubbing his temples. "My father is a psychopath and has my little brother hostage. He knows my secret, so I can't just leave and take Feliciano with me. I'd have to live in secret that way, and that's too much for Feliciano to bear. I also can't just kill him, because then it would be so obvious that I'm the murderer. I have violet eyes, and I'm the closest one to him. I can't tell anyone else but one person, and he isn't much of a help, considering that he doesn't have any solutions either."

"And you're just going to live like this forever?" Elizabeta questioned, sitting down on the table and slamming the book down. "Listen, I know you're out to kill me, but you've made it fairly obvious that you _really_ don't want to kill people. So why don't I help you out?" Roderich raised an eyebrow, looking over the woman's devious face, asking her to continue. "I'll pretend to be killed. I'm already a renowned criminal in Turkey, and my husband is wanting to take my head off with an axe. I'll just live in hiding, again! Fake my death, and your done. Leave some blood around here. I've got a few bags."

"You _what!?_"

"I'm a criminal, what can I say?"

Roderich continued his horrified look for a moment before sighing. "Fine, I trust you. But what about that other woman that you gave the files to?"

"That was Bella. She's a bit nutty, but she's a pretty fun person. You don't need to worry about her giving out your secret or anything, she didn't want to do it in the first place. I gave her those files so she could keep them safe in her cellar. She's got some good security." Elizabeta casually laid down, kicking her feet up onto a stack of books. "You need some help, right? Why don't you try gathering up a team? It'll be a lot easier and less stressful."

"You're good at making solutions, huh?"

"Duh." She sat up and pushed herself off the desk, stretching a bit and letting out a loud yawn. "Anyways, lets finish up this fake death thing really quick."

"How are the cops going to know it's you? You can't just lie down and pretend your dead, you have a pulse." Roderich got up and looked over her features. "Not only that, but if we just leave blood everywhere, they aren't going to know it's you, then take a DNA sample."

"The cops in England are pretty stupid." Elizabeta concluded. "They wont take a DNA sample if I fake a suicide death, and leave my body."

"You can't do that. Like I said, you have a p-"

"A drug."

Roderich raised an eyebrow, before slowly realizing what she meant. He smiled, crossing his arms. "Tetradotoxin. Clever. I never would have thought about that. But you do notice that it can actually kill you if you put the wrong dose, right?"

"Oh well. I've got nothing to live for anyways. Besides, you wouldn't be accused. It would be suicide... An accidental suicide, but a suicide nonetheless. They would never know."

Roderich frowned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I truthfully don't like the idea of putting someone in danger for my sake."

"I'm still going to do it, whether you like it or not." Elizabeta said stubbornly. "I crave for work, and to me, this is an important job that I want and need to take. You can't change my decision once I've made it, and I have made it. If my decision is right, then it benefits us both. I keep my life and you keep yours. If my decision is wrong, then I guess this is the final act for me."

"No." Roderich said, smirking deviously. "I'm sure this is only the beginning act for us both. And maybe your friend Bella as well."


End file.
